


Shall I Tell You What I Think of You

by epistemology



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: But he's trying really hard guys, Confession Under Fire, Dick is a mess, Dramatic love confessions with bad timing, Get Together, M/M, Non consensual telepathy to be exact, Pining, Some vague sexual content, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:15:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28052283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epistemology/pseuds/epistemology
Summary: Dick develops both the ability to hear Jason's thoughts and also feelings for him.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Comments: 28
Kudos: 128
Collections: Detective Holiday Exchange





	Shall I Tell You What I Think of You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bitterleafs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitterleafs/gifts).



> This was born from a discussion on the JayDick discord and I knew immediately I wanted to do something with it. Hope you like it, Crow :)
> 
> (Thank you to my wonderful beta whom I love dearly)

Dick is selfish.

That’s the only explanation, really. He can chalk it up to awkwardness, to the lack of a comfortable relationship between them, but the fact remains that when push comes to shove, Dick is selfish, and incredibly so.

He can still hear the words from earlier ringing in his head.

_There he goes being so goddamn perfect again. No wonder everyone’s in love with him. No wonder I am. Get over yourself, Todd. Now’s not the time. Stop being so pathetic._

Miraculously, Dick somehow managed to keep this newfound telepathic ability under wraps. Jason didn’t notice, too focused on the mission at hand as he was, and Dick tried his hardest not to show that anything was amiss.

It’s his problem to deal with, right? His head that’s messed up. Jason doesn’t need to be involved, especially when being involved could lead to him leaving Gotham and never returning. He’s always guarded his privacy, and this is an invasion beyond anything Bruce has ever done before.

But the fact remains that Dick can hear _all_ Jason’s thoughts, something that Jason would never forgive him for, intentional or not. And while he remains blissfully unaware for now, Dick can only hope he manages to figure this mess out on his own before Jason’s perceptiveness catches up to him.

He lies on his bed for a moment longer and stares at the ceiling, contemplating what his life as a vigilante has come to. Then, he rolls over and tries to catch a few hours of sleep before the sun rises again, his own thoughts the only ones running through his head.

He doesn’t fall asleep.

* * *

“Did you ever figure out what was going on on Madison Avenue?”

Dick glances up from the list of names he had been copying from the Batcomputer. Tim stands on the other side of the Cave, clearly fresh from a workout, sweat dripping from his hair and looking remarkably like a very wet puppy. Dick cannot hear his thoughts.

He decides to play dumb. “Madison Avenue?”

“Yeah, the other night. You said something weird was going on over there, and you were gonna check it out. What happened?”

“Oh that,” he says, chuckling a little for good measure. “Nothing serious. Don’t worry, I took care of it.”

And then he’s gone, leaving no further room for interrogation.

* * *

Sometimes patrol is boring, and Dick has come to terms with that. He knows, deep down, that he should probably wish for a boring patrol every night. Not only would it mean the city’s crime rate has gone down, but it would be safer for all of them, himself included. But Dick has always lived off adrenaline and can’t resist the sudden leaps into danger, can’t resist not knowing what’s about to happen and if he’s going to make it out.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t run when the Red Hood sits next to him. 

“Hey, Dickhead,” he says.

_God, he’s so beautiful._

“Hood.”

_How does he always look this good?_

“Slow night for you too?”

Dick allows himself a small smile. “Yeah. I’m thinking of turning in and working on a case instead,” he offers.

The helmet turns towards him, impassive as always. Dick wonders what his face looks like underneath. Does his expression match his thoughts? How does Jason look at him, when he isn’t looking back?

“Need help?” It’s casual, cool, but the effect is ruined by the, _Seriously, Todd? He’s a grown ass man, he doesn’t need your help,_ that runs through Dick’s head after.

Dick sighs. He’ll feel bad turning Jason down now, but this isn’t a case he wants help on, especially from him. “I think I’ll manage, but thanks.”

They sit in silence, appreciating the quiet comfort of another’s company, and Dick tries helplessly to block out all the forgein thoughts. But they keep coming, and coming, thoughts about cases, about Bruce, about Dick, until— _He looks like a damn prince with the moon shining on him like that._

Dick stands abruptly. “I— Tim just.” He waves his hand near his ear. “I should go.” And then he grapples away as quickly as he can, Jason’s thoughts of confusion fading as the distance grows.

Dick is a coward, on top of it all.

* * *

He can’t seem to escape Jason after that. It doesn’t seem to be a conscious thing, if his thoughts are anything to go by, but over the course of the next week Jason somehow always ends up wherever Dick is. They run into each other on patrol, at the manor, and strangely enough, the new coffee shop Dick had been meaning to try. He had been in the middle of ordering a drink when _Damn those pants do wonders for his ass_ suddenly shot through his head, leaving the poor barista confused by Dick’s sudden sputtering.

He had yet to figure out the exact proximity needed in order to hear Jason’s thoughts, and so far Jason had snuck up on him every time, the telepathic connection the only warning to his presence.

Which is how, as he settles in for the night after a long patrol, Dick knows Jason is currently on his fire escape.

_Dickie—_

He glances around his apartment, cluttered but clean, wary of inviting Jason in. Is he out there because he knows? Is he here to chew Dick out for hiding something like this from him? Is this Dick’s chance to confess?

He opens the window, taking in the slumped form outside and immediately coming to a different conclusion. Jason is hurt. He doesn’t look conscious, and further inspection reveals a sticky patch on the sleeve of his jacket.

Dick hauls him inside and onto the couch—no easy feat—and gets to work on the wound. The bullet had gone all the way through, which was a blessing. Even better, Jason’s thoughts are silent, no dreams seeping into Dick’s head, and he’s grateful for one less distraction as he threads the needle.

He’s not sure he’s ever seen Jason sleeping, if this even counts. Dick hadn’t been around nearly enough when Jason was younger, as evidenced by the crush he’d obviously missed. But like this, passed out on Dick’s couch, armor removed, he looks just like Dick would have imagined he did as a kid. Young, relaxed, peaceful.

Then Jason’s eyes scrunch up, and it ends. He tenses as he awakens and realizes where he is.

“Shit, I—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dick says, a hand on Jason’s chest easing him back down into the couch cushions. “I’ve already taken care of it.”

Jason furrows his eyebrows, not remembering until Dick gestures to his arm and his eyes go wide. It’s cute.

“Right. Sorry ‘bout that.”

_You idiot._

“It’s not a problem,” Dick assures.

_Why’d you have to go and get shot?_

Jason clears his throat. “Thanks. For the help.”

“Of course,” Dick says, and he means it.

They sit there staring awkwardly, but then Jason stands to leave. 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh, back to my place,” he says. Dick doesn’t miss the string of thoughts all yelling to get out, get away. It’s odd. Jason is clearly attracted to him, yet instead of wanting to be closer, he takes almost every opportunity to leave first. It’s not something Dick can entirely understand, not when he’s always begun a relationship by wanting to be around the object of his affections as much as he can.

“You just got shot. Stay the night,” Dick answers. Jason wavers by the window, and sure enough— _Don’t you dare, Todd. He doesn’t fucking mean it like that!_ But then his shoulders relax, and Dick only just catches the blush on his cheeks before he turns to sit in the only armchair. Dick pretends he doesn’t know it’s because Jason doesn’t trust himself to sit next to him. It’s endearing, in its own way.

And so they watch shitty TV. And then they go to bed, Jason on the couch because Dick had offered to share the bed but the flood of X rated thoughts that went through Jason’s mind afterwards caused them both to sputter some hasty excuses and head off to their separate sleeping arrangements.

Dick makes it to his room, barely, and shuts the door behind him, then locks it too. It’s unnecessary, but the extra barrier gives him a little more peace of mind, even if it’s only in his head.

But his head is exactly the problem because the lock on his door does nothing to keep Jason out. It’s not only thoughts now but images, scenes, things Dick can tell Jason is trying his damndest not to think. He half wonders if Jason is as hard as he is now, his own erection straining in his suit. Jason can’t be comfortable out there, but in his haste to get some privacy, Dick had forgotten to give him some spare clothing to borrow, and he refuses to go back out now. Not to mention the thought of Jason in his clothes is… Well, it’s suddenly conjuring different emotions than it ever did before.

Dick heads to the bathroom and strips out of his suit and the accompanying jockstrap. Then he turns on the shower and pushes away every thought that Jason is desperately trying to ignore, stepping under the hot spray. He lasts about a minute before he takes himself in hand and strokes until he reaches orgasm, using Jason’s own fantasies of him as a guide.

He goes to bed guilty.

Morning finds the couch empty, blankets folded neatly on the corner, leaving Dick alone to sit and fantasize about all the possible situations in which Jason stayed.

* * *

Dick returns to the scene of the crime that evening. The warehouse where this had all started sits empty in the darkness of the street, pale streetlights casting an eerie glow into the open room. He feels lost in there, the same way he had when he touched that damn machine in the first place, and then Jason had too, and then everything had been flipped on its head.

The fact that no one else has arrived is concerning but also assures him that he most likely hadn’t tripped any alarms coming in. Still, he’s quiet as he moves, gloved fingers running silently over the hard metal of whatever contraption stands in the corner.

His hand grazes a scanner. Dick remembers that part from when he laid the same hand on it last time. He’s careful not to touch it now.

Jason must have touched it too. He remembers him being next to the thing. Remembers calling out absentmindedly that he’d already checked and whatever it was, it was harmless. Remembers suddenly doubling over as a burst of pain shot through his temples. Remembers being told after the fact that Batman had chosen that exact moment to tap into the comms, distracting Jason from whatever had happened.

Jason must have touched the scanner after Dick had. The implications seemed to fit, even if Dick didn’t know anything about this contraption, but that was what the next steps were for.

Step one: figure out as much as he can about the machine that had caused all this.

Step two: fix it.

(Step three: don’t let Jason find out.)

Dick stays another thirty minutes gathering everything he needs before Jason’s voice sounds over the comms for backup. And because Dick is a hero, he reminds himself unhappily, he goes.

* * *

He ends up at Jason’s place by the end of the next week. 

Every lead he got on that damn machine led back to the same conclusion, no matter how hard Dick tried to avoid it. Jason needed to be there to reverse the damage it had done.

But Jason being there meant Jason knowing. And Jason knowing meant Dick telling him.

“I just wanted to go over a case if that’s okay,” he says before Jason can even voice his question. Dick makes himself comfortable on the couch, preferring to do this seated, and Jason joins him after grabbing something from the kitchen, which turns out to be two plates of lasagna. It tastes as good as it smells, and Dick doesn’t even ask why Jason would spare food for him, the answer already in his mind.

_I wonder if he likes it. God knows he needs someone making him actual meals. Probably doesn’t remember to eat if someone doesn’t remind him._

And while Dick resents the implication that he cannot take care of himself, he appreciates the sentiment behind it. The fact that someone wants to take care of him, well. It makes him feel something he isn’t quite ready to address.

He eats his food quietly instead, and he doesn’t look at Jason.

_He’s so perfect._

I’m not, Dick protests in his head, uselessly. I’m no better than you, Little Wing, he screams, knowing the other cannot hear. I’ve failed so many people, including you, he thinks, but Jason doesn’t react except to continue singing Dick’s praises to himself. 

Dick finishes his lasagna, and he steels himself for the blowout that is bound to happen the minute he finishes his well-practiced excuses.

“Jason,” he says, turning toward him on the couch and looking into his eyes. Had they always been that green? 

_I love him,_ Jason thinks, and Dick’s plans change.

He kisses him instead. Spur of the moment, Jason’s face between his palms, leaning forward until he’s almost in his lap. Dick can hear the, _What the fuck,_ but then he also hears the, _Oh my god Dick is kissing me,_ and he smiles when Jason starts kissing back.

It slows down, becomes something gentle and tender, Jason kissing him like he loves him _because he does._ Jason loves him.

(And maybe Dick is starting to fall in love, too.)

They part, and Dick looks into those pretty green eyes and wonders how he never paid them any attention before. He starts to smile, but then, _What did I do to deserve this?_ A reminder. This is why Dick came here in the first place. His smile drops, and Jason notices. He pulls back so their thighs are no longer touching.

_What the fuck did I just do?_

“You didn’t do anything!” Dick blurts out.

Jason’s brows furrow, and sure enough— _That was weird._

“I have something I need to tell you,” Dick begins again, looking away as if not being able to see Jason's face would give him refuge from his thoughts. “It has to do with the case I came here to talk about, and I swear I didn’t mean to kiss you like that before we talked about this, I just got distracted, and I know I shouldn’t have—”

The hand is on his knee before Dick even hears the barrage of reassurances from which Jason is trying to pick. He takes a steadying breath, but it doesn’t help.

“I can hear your thoughts.”

_What the fuck._

Jason doesn’t say anything, not that he needs to. He just looks straight ahead, steely-eyed and impassive, but the confusion in his head is obvious by the amount of f-bombs he’s thinking. Once the string of swears finally stops, he looks Dick directly in the eye and he thinks one thing.

_How long?_

Dick clears his throat, coughing a bit. Jason makes no move to help. “Almost two weeks.”

“Two— Two weeks? And you didn’t think to fucking tell me?”

He stands. Paces. Dick says nothing.

_How could he— What was he thinking? He wasn’t, he wasn’t fucking thinking, obviously! What the hell is wrong with him?_

“I’m sorry,” Dick offers. He doesn’t even try any of his excuses. That he had planned to fix the problem without Jason knowing. That ignorance is bliss. That the fact that he’s telling him now is an act of courage. That he loves him. 

“Sorry doesn’t solve shit,” Jason spits out.

_Was this all a fucking game to him?_

“It wasn’t a game, Jason,” Dick says earnestly. “I didn’t kiss you because—”

“No.” He stops pacing. Points an accusing finger. “You do not get to answer anything that comes from my head, okay? If I don’t say it to you directly you have no right to— My thoughts are not for you!”

“I know that, I just meant—”

“Just shut up for one fucking minute, Dick!”

And he can give Jason that. Even as questions as to how this happened flick through his head, Dick stays silent. He tries not to listen. Traces the window panes in his mind, counts the books on the shelf. A full minute passes before Jason sits again.

“How do we fix this?”

Dick knew he was going to ask this, but it still fills him with warmth to hear Jason say _we,_ even after all that.

“I’ve already figured it out. We both need to be there for it to work.”

Jason nods like he expected it. “Can we do it tonight?” he asks.

It’s late, but Jason deserves this, at the very least. “Yeah. Remember the case from Madison Avenue?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s where we’re headed,” Dick says. He stands, stretches, and Jason takes their plates to the kitchen, disposing of the excess food somehow. They’re both still suited up, and so they take off into the night. _How am I going to fix this?_ flashes through Dick’s mind, and it takes him far too long to realize the thought was one of his own.

As wrong as he knows it is, he tries to savor every moment he has left being this close to Jason, but the faster time slips through his fingers the tighter he tries to cling, and then they reach the warehouse. The machine is still there, tucked away in the corner like last time, and Jason spares a moment to curse it out in his head. Dick waits patiently until he’s finished to explain the semantics, which Jason notices, his scowl telling enough if not for his thoughts.

“Okay so, I’ve done plenty of research, and once I adjust the settings, you put your hand on the sensor, and then I will. Opposite of last time.”

He lets Jason put the pieces together—Dick hadn’t had the chance to explain earlier—and then he begins fiddling. Jason watches, appreciating his ass and then berating himself for it. Dick angles his head away and cracks a smile.

“Okay, it’s ready.”

Jason is nervous, for all that he doesn’t show it, but he places one hand on the scanner. Nothing happens.

Then Dick puts his hand down too, and Jason screams.

He doesn’t move to help when Jason doubles over. Instead Dick thinks. He thinks _I’m sorry._ He thinks _I never wanted to hurt you._ He thinks _I love you._

He thinks as hard as he can, and when Jason is still, he says it aloud.

“I’m in love with you. I know you’re mad that I hid this from you, and you have every right to be, but god, Jason, I’ve gotten to know some very important things about you these past two weeks, and I loved every second of it. I love you.”

“Yeah, I fucking heard you. In here.” He gestures awkwardly to his head.

Jason doesn’t say anything else, and suddenly the absence of his thoughts strikes Dick hard and he’s left with an emptiness inside his head that feels as if it’s always been there. A part of him that had always been reserved for Jason, he just hadn’t known it yet.

Jason scoffs as he stands, but Dick can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed that he heard.

“If you want to keep your newfound powers for the next two weeks as payback I won’t complain,” he says. It’s only fair.

“Just because you got to hear all my thoughts doesn’t make it fair for me to do this to you. Besides,” Jason continues before Dick can interrupt, “I’m not sure I really want to.”

Of course he doesn’t. Dick has trouble keeping up with his own thoughts sometimes, and dealing with someone else’s had been tiresome.

He sees Jason smile at that out of the corner of his eye.

Dick fiddles with the settings some more until it’s ready, all the while trying not to think of how much he loves Jason and failing miserably. Jason doesn’t react, and Dick doesn’t have a guide anymore, so he waits and he hopes. Then they scan their hands, and it’s over.

Jason nods confirmation that he can’t hear Dick, catching his gaze perhaps a little longer than was normal. Dick doesn’t want to presume, not after everything, but— 

“Do you still like me?” he blurts.

He thinks he’s made a mistake, but then Jason’s crooked smile makes a rare appearance, and Dick wonders how he never fell for it before.

“Look. I’m still pissed about what you did. It was a shitty move on your part, and I’m not happy about it.”

Dick nods.

“But,” Jason says, “it’s not like I don’t get it. Not after hearing everything you were thinking about all this and, uh, about me.”

“You know how I feel about you now.”

“Uh, yeah. I do.”

“And do you feel the same?” Dick asks, stepping closer.

“Do you even have to ask that?”

“I want to be sure.”

Jason reddens as Dick takes another bold step. “It’s not like you don’t already know everything I was thinking about you.”

“But you didn’t change your mind?” Another step. Jason stands directly in front of him now, and Dick wants nothing more than to kiss him.

“I— No, Dick, of course I didn’t fucking change my mind!”

He leans forward until their lips are almost brushing and then waits, letting Jason take the initiative to close the gap. 

There are no thoughts to grant him reassurance this time, nothing telling him what Jason is thinking, how he feels. But as Dick feels Jason smile into the kiss, he thinks he doesn’t need it.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're looking for more wonderful JayDick fics, Crow also has some good ones, like [Without the Weight of You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27110071), which is such a beautiful, sorrowful fic and you absolutely won't regret reading it <3


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